Lady Million
by iphianeira
Summary: For the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition: a series of unrelated drabbles and one-shots about Neville, Fleur, Molly, Minerva, Arabella, Pomona, Louis, and Hannah, with superhero!AUs, blame, and fluffy trips to Hogsmeade.
1. Author's Note

_Author's Note_

These stories have been written for the Fanfiction Perfumers competition and are entirely unrelated to each other, except for the fact that every main character correlates to an ingredient of the Lady Million perfume. After completion of this competition, the stories will be published separately, because I'm OCD and having completely unrelated stories in a single collection frustrates me. Thanks, and please enjoy.


	2. 01: Orange Blossom

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition; for the Rubik's Cube Challenge; for the Crazy Eights Challenge; for the Create-A-Potion Challenge. This is, quite evidently, a superhero!AU, as assigned for the Rubik's Cube Challenge._

* * *

It was a myth, he decided once in his fifth year of school. He just wasn't a superhero.

What was so special about him?

(Oh, right - nothing.)

As a child, he'd thought that he was a defective - that he hadn't inherited his parents' powers. After all, all the other superkids his grandmother knew could breath fire or shoot lasers out of their eyes. So when a letter materialized at the Longbottoms' breakfast table inviting Neville to attend Hogwarts School of Superpower Mastery, he had thought there must have been a mistake.

(Really, he was the mistake.)

This mentality didn't change throughout school. Upon arrival, he learned that he was the only one with absent powers. The rest of the children there knew exactly what they could do - they could take on the abilities of different animals or breathe fire or see through solid objects. One girl knew everything that ever was and would be about the universe and didn't even have superheroes for parents. One boy had nearly been killed by a supervillain when he was a toddler but had defeated him by sucking out his soul.

(Neville could feel sorry for himself, and that was the extent of his powers.)

Over the years, school continued to worsen. While everyone else kept learning how to be brilliant and use their superpowers in the best possible ways, Neville still knew nothing. He wasn't anything. The school's professors would encourage him and tell him he could do better, but it was obvious they didn't care. He usually caught a hint of a patronizing tone in their voices when they told him that "he could do it" and "sometimes powers take a while to make themselves evident."

(Did "a while" mean "forever"?)

Several kids in his class befriended him, but they seemed to pity him more than anything else. One boy often complained to him about his superpower, invisibility: he loved attention, and what was invisibility going to do for him?

(Surely, Neville thought every time the boy brought it up, invisibility would do more for him than lacking any power at all.)

At the end of his fifth year, the godfather of one of Neville's friends was kidnapped (or thought to be kidnapped, at least), and somehow Neville found his way to the Ministry of Superhumanity to save him with the boy and four of his friends. One was kind to him - a younger girl who had super-strength and could sense others' personalities and superpowers. He rather liked her. But of course, unavoidably, while the girl fought against the supervillains with her fantastic power, Neville was stuck with nothing. For the entirety of this superhuman battle, he knew he was the most useless he had ever been.

(That wasn't a change from the rest of his life, though, right?)

For some reason, though, his grandmother was led to believe that he'd been some great superhero in the battle, and upon his return home from school she hugged him tightly and wouldn't let go for what felt like hours. "You're just like your parents," she said in her tears.

(Neville's parents had been courageous heroes who defeated countless archvillains until one horrifying man who destroyed his victims' memories defeated them.)

Was it the belief that he might be like his parents that did it?

(He found out when he returned to school the next year that he wasn't, in fact, a defective. Neville Longbottom actually had a superpower: he could change his molecular makeup into anything he wished.)


	3. 02: Lemon

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition; for the Crazy Eights Challenge; for the Variety Challenge; for the Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge._

* * *

Even with the best intentions, something always goes wrong, and nobody was a better exhibit of that than Fleur Delacour.

She was perfect, or so everyone said. She was intelligent, kind, fearless, athletic, and, of course, beautiful. Any Triwizard champion - especially the first female after centuries of all-male participation - had to be so. Did it really matter, though? Everything she did ended up a failure.

Nobody in France desired her friendship, and if they did, it was purely for her wealth. Nobody liked her romantically, either, because, as she heard while walking in the corridor on Thursday, she was, according to the entirety of Beauxbatons, a "stuck-up, prissy, fake, skinny bitch."

Nothing changed when she got to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Cup. Had she really expected it to do so? In any case, its male population lusted after her looks and not her laugh or interests or character. She'd genuinely liked Roger and thought he'd felt the same way, too - until he made it clear what he was truly interested in.

Of course, there was also the problem that because of her, everyone died.

Gabrielle nearly died when Fleur was attacked by the Grindylows. Bill nearly died when Fleur took so long to reach his unconscious body. Luna nearly died when Fleur darted past her and accidentally crashed into her, sending the sixteen-year-old kid millimeters away from Yaxley's killing curse.

And so many more nearly nearly died, but they weren't so lucky, and all because of Fleur.

Why did she and Bill think it was a good idea to host a wedding during the war with a hundred prominent Order supporters in attendance?

They didn't even know how many died. Alette, fleurs cousin, was found in the garden with a dreamy smile on her face. Bill's Aunt Muriel had lain face down, looking as if she were grumbling at the gnomes by an old stump. Two ministry men, friends of Mr. Weasley, were side by side, wand arms out but missing the near-appendages likely stolen by Death Eaters.

And wasn't it all her fault?


	4. 03: Amber

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Challenge; for the Achieve that Outstanding Challenge; for the Relationship Bingo Challenge; for the Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge; for the Variety Challenge; for the Crazy Eights Challenge._

* * *

a. Gryffindor Common Room

"What do you think you're doing?"

It was a cool early morning in March, Molly Prewett couldn't sleep, and after electing to take a walk, she had found a very awake Arthur Weasley holding a who-knows-what in both hands.

"Oh! Molly! Hello!" he said, startled, as he jumped. "This… it's a dictation machine!"

"Which is…?"

"Oh! It's a Muggle device, see. You speak and it records it on this little object they call a cass-it tape."

"...Oh?" Molly asked, rather confused. Arthur's obsession with Muggles wasn't a secret, but why'd he have this odd object, and how'd it work? "So… where'd you get this, then?"

"My aunt and uncle gave it to me for my seventeenth last month! So now I'm taking it apart, 'cause I don't really know how it works, but I, um, I think I might've broken it." Well, that was two questions answered, even if she still didn't know how it worked. Okay, perhaps it was only one question answered.

"Hey, Molly," said Arthur suddenly.

"Yeah?" she asked, still laughing a bit about his over-the-top enthusiasm.

"You want to go to Hogsmeade next weekend? For the Hogsmeade trip? That?"

Molly giggled. "Yeah, sure."

"Oh, wicked, thanks." Arthur grinned at her from his seat by the fire.

Molly grinned in return and then, after a small pause that hung in the air with a giddy awkwardness, excused herself to get in that walk she'd wanted.

She smiled. Arthur was cute.

b. Entrance Hall

The first thing she noticed was that her robes clashed with his. It wasn't a problem, was it, if his were navy and hers teal? At least their hair matched, Molly thought with a laugh. She grinned, imagining herself as the matriarch of a small horde of red-headed Weasley children, but stopped herself after remembering she'd never been on a date with Arthur.

"Molly!" he called as if on cue when he noticed her at the other end of the call. After waving at her, he practically bounded across the stone floor occupied by couples and groups of friends heading to Hogsmeade.

"You keyed?" he asked when he eventually reached her.

"What?" Molly wondered, perplexed.

"It's a Muggle thing," he said, and she would later swear she saw his eyes turn ten shades brighter at his own mention of Muggle culture. "It means 'excited.'"

"Oh, I see," Molly said, laughing. "In that case, I'm totally keyed."

"Are you mocking me?" he asked jokingly, though with a hint of seriousness.

"Not at all," she replied, beaming at him.

c. Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop

"Having fun?" Arthur asked, but she could tell he was humouring her. She loved the tea shop, with its cozy little setting and its coffees with foam in little heart shapes and its plush little chair cushions. Arthur, on the other hand, looked thoroughly uncomfortable. Perhaps the obnoxious pair of thirteen-year-old boys overdramatically pretending to be a couple was detracting from their experience, but Arthur simply looked uncomfortable. In fact, she figured, he probably just wasn't comfortable at a place like Madam Puddifoot's.

"I like it a lot, yeah," she said in response. "What about you?"

"It's, erm, it's nice."

"Don't worry, Arthur, I can tell you don't like it much."

"Oh, thank Merlin," he said, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

"Why not, may I ask?"

"It's just a bit cramped, you know, and a tad too warm."

"Alright, alright. Let's go somewhere else."

d. Honeydukes

"I'm going to guess you didn't really care about the temperature or the crowd in Madam Puddifoot's," Molly said slyly as they sat down on a pair of red bar stools to watch their syrup candy being made.

"Okay, yeah, I didn't really like it," he replied sheepishly. "It's a little too cutesy - kind of cliche, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. You're completely fine. To tell you the truth, I really prefer Honeydukes to Puddifoot's," she laughed, taking their candy from the Honeydukes man with a thank you and standing up. "Anything else you want to get?"

"Have you heard of those Bertie Bott's beans?"

"No, what are they?"

"They're like jelly beans, but they pretty much have every flavor that's ever existed. Like dirt and soap and those sorts of things."

"Honestly, Arthur, that sounds disgusting."

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!"

"Nah," she said, still laughing, "it's too much of a risk."

"Without risks, you'd never do anything important." That struck Molly as strange for Arthur; she'd always seen him as timid and shy, not this cheerful daredevil she saw now.

"D'you really think that?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes, of course," he said, in all solemnity.

"What do you want to do, then? As a profession, I mean?"

"Something important," he answered, shrugging. "Really, though, that's all I know. I just want to _do_ something. Maybe with Muggles, you know." He paused. "What about you?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't really know, either. I know I want kids, though. I love kids," and she smiled at how soon the topic had gone to children.

"Yeah, I think so too. Anyway. Bott's?"

"Sure."

e. Main Street, Hogsmeade

"Thanks for asking me, Arthur. Today was so much fun."

"It wasn't any problem. I had fun, too."

They were silent for a while as they started the mile-and-a-half trek back to Hogwarts, gazing at the lovely mountains and the beautiful lake but never, of course, at each other. In the cold March air, Molly shivered a bit - her robes were probably a bit too thin than they should've been - and rubbed her hands together, trying to find some warmth.

"Hey, your hand looks pretty cold," said Arthur. "Need me to hold it for you?"

Molly began to laugh, and before she knew it, she was cackling that horrible cackle she had when she was laughing too hard. "Merlin, Arthur."

"It's a Muggle thing," he protested.

"It is not," she said slowly, trying not to laugh. "Pick up lines exist in the Wizarding world too."

"Hey, thought I should give it a try."

"Yeah? Well, good try, Arthur."

"Thanks, Molly."

She finally calmed down and withdrew her right hand from her pocket, extending it so that Arthur could reach it. He wasn't looking at her, though, so she grabbed his hand with hers, and that, she supposed, was how it all began.


	5. 04: Patchouli

_Written for the All You Need Is Love Competition; the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition; the Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge; the Crazy Eights Challenge._

* * *

_Dougal McGregor and Anne Lister are happy to invite you_

_to their official ENGAGEMENT PARTY_

How?

How could he do this to her?

She loved him. She loved him then, and she loves him still, and how could he do this, and why?

She thought he would love her still, but really, why had she ever come to such a conclusion? How stupid of her. It's been years since she deserted him with no real reason she could give him without breaking the secrecy law. Why ever did she think he would long for her the rest of his life instead of moving on, going forward?

She's such an idiot. How ridiculous she was!

Minerva reads the invitation again, rereads it once more, reads it, reads it, reads it until she's sobbing. What a sad sight - the Transfiguration professor, mature and intelligent, without a hint of materialism or hopeless romanticism, alone and in tears in the middle of her own classroom.

"Professor?"

The voice floats through the doorway and Minerva begins to panic. What if it turns out to be a student of hers? She can't have her students seeing her like this! But then again, she supposes, her colleagues can't see her like this either, helpless and horribly upset; nobody can see her like this. She can't be weak, she can't know pain, she is smart, she is wise, she lacks no common sense. She can get through this. She _must_ get through this. Stop crying, she tells herself.

"Yes?" she says in an only slightly quavering voice.

"Minerva, are you alright?"

She recognizes the voice now.

It's the Headmaster.

Dumbledore can't see her like this. No, no, no, no, no, no, no - this can't happen. She is strong, she is powerful. He can't see this side of her.

"I'm absolutely fine. Thank you, Headmaster."

"I'm afraid you aren't quite fine, Minerva."

"I said that I'm fine."

"Minerva, as much as you would like to put this fake haughtiness on display, you _can_ admit you're as human as anyone else."

She is silent for a moment and then she lets out a great wail.

"I'm so sorry, Professor - "

"Call me Albus, Minerva. You do remember, we're colleagues."

"Yes, alright then - Albus - I'm so sorry."

"You have no reason to be sorry, just as you have no reason to be upset."  
"But I do! I do have a reason to be upset! I _do_!"

"And what is that?"

"My fiance - my _ex_-fiance - he's getting married; I don't know what I'll do, I don't know what I'll do, I don't know, I can't do this - "

"Minerva, Minerva, Minerva. You can."

"I _can't_!"

"Minerva, you must simply learn to move on from him."

"I can't do that! I love him!" She is sobbing even harder now; her nose is running and her robes are becoming wet.

"But you don't have to love him forever."

"How would you know?! You're just a wise old man who probably hasn't ever even loved anyone!"

"On the contrary, Minerva, I've loved before, and I can assure you, it was much more urgent that I no longer love him then it is you no longer love your ex-fiance."

"He's getting married, Profe - Albus. I doubt you can come up with a more urgent reason to fall out of love with someone than that."  
"Are you entirely sure? I'm actually quite certain that one must less urgently fall out of love with a married man than an evil one intent on destroying the both Wizarding World and the Muggle, who might have been the man who killed one's sister."

Minerva is silent. _Oh_. Perhaps Albus's case _was_ a bit more mandatory.

"What happened?" she asks quietly, though still sniffling and wiping tears away from her cheeks.

"Well, you see, I met this man when he was visiting our neighbor, a relative - Bathilda Bagshot, of course you would've heard of her." (Minerva nods in recognition.) "See, he was certainly a rather handsome young man, and very charismatic, and very kind when he wished to display himself in such a way. We hit it off the first day he was there; he was an attractive, confused teenager, and I, hoping for an acquaintance near me in that horrible world of care - for I was never meant to care for people, and I was required to look after my young sister, who was rather unstable - I greeted him, asking if he needed help, and he being who he was of course said yes.

"We became close - or I _thought_ we became close, you see, we didn't _really_ do such a thing - and he discussed his plans for the Greater Good and I followed along, because I was young and lovestruck and friends with a handsome boy who I thought might want anything to do with me.

"And then my brother, seeing him for who he really was, tried to warn me, and we got into a fight, him and me and that perfect boy, and my sister tried to help, and she was killed. So of course he ran away, because of course he didn't wish to be caught."

"And you never saw him again," Minerva finishes sadly.

"No, no, I did," says Albus, and Minerva looks at him in surprise.

"What? Why?"

"It was the greatest duel of the twentieth century, or so wrote the newspapers. I'm surprised you haven't heard of it."

Minerva's mouth drops open in shock. "You were in love with _Gellert Grindelwald_?!"

"Ah, yes, I knew you would've known that duel. It is true; I was as a boy quite infatuated with him. So you see, Minerva, I do believe that if I can fall out of love with poor Gellert, you, too, can move on from this ex-fiance of yours."

Minerva suddenly crushes him in a hug, and in that moment, she knows that she _can _move on. She can move on from his lopsided smile and his quick-witted sarcasm and his vast intelligence and his hilarious humour and his lovely tousled blonde hair. And she can, too, move on from his pretentiousness and his hatred for the Indians and his loud mouth. She _can_. Perhaps, she thinks, the storm is over.


	6. 05: Honey

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition; for the Variety Challenge; for the Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge; for the Crazy Eights Challenge._

* * *

week 01.

Hannah hasn't seen Susan all summer. They've owled, of course; it's not as if they haven't communicated. But upon seeing Susan for the first time in months, Hannah determines that she has _changed_ \- not mentally, but physically. At some point over the summer Susan must have decided that her frizzy red hair and unkempt bangs could be transformed into a sleek updo, must have realized that the black robes she so often wore could be more purple and more attractive.

"Susan!" Hannah says in greeting when the newly-lovely red-haired girl slides open the door of the compartment she's sharing with Ernie Macmillan and Padma Patil, a Ravenclaw Hannah doesn't know well but who is friends with Ernie.

"Hi, Hannah," Susan replies, smiling, "and hi to you, Ernie, and… Padma, right?"

"Yes, it's nice to meet you," Padma says warmly.

"You too!" exclaims Susan.

Hannah grins at her friend. "You look great, Susan!"

"Thanks so much, Hannah! I was kind of done with the old look, you know?"

"Yeah, I totally understand."

week 02.

By now, Susan and Hannah are back to the beautiful best-friendship they've had since first year - not that they weren't friends over the summer, but Hannah is quiet and Susan is awkward and for the first week, they had to rekindle the friendship they had. Everything's good now, though; Susan is as wonderful as ever.

week 05.

Susan's started talking to Padma in the classes they have together. Hannah likes Padma, too, but she likes having Susan to herself. Is that selfish?

week 08.

It's getting harder and harder to ignore the presence of the Death Eaters that have taken control of Hogwarts; Hannah is terrified. Susan's there, though, along with the rest of her friends, and she knows she has people to go to.

week 09.

Neville comes to talk to her one morning at breakfast with a lowered voice: "Hannah!"

"What?"

"We're starting up Dumbledore's Army again - me and Ginny and Luna."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. You should come. Same place, five o'clock next Wednesday night. We sent out a message on the coins, but we thought we should talk to people, just in case."

"Oh, I'll be there. Can I bring Susan?"

"Yeah, sure."

week 10.

Susan agrees to come but only, of course, if she can bring Padma along. It's all Hannah can do not to roll her eyes; she's rather tired of Susan's newfound obsession with the Ravenclaw girl. Can't she just spend time with her actual best friend? (No, apparently not.)

week 15.

Susan hasn't talked to her in weeks, but for a few bits of small talk or a request for an extra quill, in favor of an Indian Ravenclaw.

week 16.

"Hey, Hannah!"

"Yeah?!" Hannah responds, a bit too eagerly, at the sound of Susan's voice.

"You know how we were going to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend?"

"Yeah."

"Is it okay if I go with Padma instead? I'm really, really sorry - "

"Why do you have to spend every last moment with Padma?!"

Susan is taken aback. "I.. I really like her, Hannah."

"And you don't like me?"

"No! I don't mean that! I just mean, you know, I _really_ like Padma, like, _like_ like."

Hannah is quiet. "Oh."

Perhaps she hasn't realized what a crush she's developed on Susan, but now, with the redhead revealing her love for Padma, it's being discovered. Hannah's mood drops by a million percent, and she can already feel tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "Okay," she says, and flees to the dormitory.

week 27.

Susan still rarely talks to her. Hannah talks to other friends - Ernie, Neville, Nadine - but nobody is the same as Susan, especially with Death Eaters. She's worried for her life every day, and she wishes she could talk to Susan, beautiful, wonderful, kind, lovely Susan.

Instead, Susan talks to Padma. Hannah sees them holding hands one Tuesday and questions Justin about it.

"They're going out, of course," he says incredulously. "Everybody knows that; she squealed about it to the whole house."

Hannah cries every day for the rest of the week.

week 29.

Things are worsening - not with Susan (there's nothing to become worse there) but with Snape and the Carrows. Though Dumbledore's Army has done a few things to better the life of Hogwarts students, the organization hasn't truly been able to accomplish anything without incurring the wrath of the Carrows upon the entire school.

What can they do?

(Nothing.)

week 30.

The Death Eaters are destroying everyone and everything.

Including, of course, Hannah's father and sisters.

She sobs during every lesson; she's an orphan already, and only seventeen. When her mother was found dead in Hannah's sixth year, the only consolation she had was that her father and sisters and brothers were still alive. Now, she doesn't have any of them; her father is cold and motionless, her four- and eight-year-old sisters the same, and her brothers, both aged thirteen, have been withdrawn from school by their Aunt Geraldine.

Hannah is alone, without her parents, without her siblings, and without Susan.

week 34.

Somehow, in the midst of the battle, Hannah finds herself battling two Death Eaters alongside Padma Patil.

Had she ever imagined this situation before, she would have never believed she would be helping Padma. In fact, she may have been the one, in this fantasy of hers, who would send the killing curse Padma's way. But in the moment, in the heat of the battle, she couldn't think of anything like it.

They blast spells and curses at the masked men before them, not even speaking to one another, but Hannah can tell that just by fighting together they're developing a bond, and maybe, Hannah thinks, if Susan can't realize Hannah's always been there for her, then Padma will be a nice alternative.

And all of a sudden that idea is crushed, because the Death Eaters destroy everything and, unavoidably, everyone.

"_No_!"

It is Susan's voice; Hannah, so intent in her fight against the two men, didn't even see her down the corridor. Tears begin to fall down Hannah's face, but whether they are for Padma or for the loss of Susan's love she isn't sure. She waits for Susan to grieve over Padma's dead body and turns away from her - _it_.

"If we take them together, we can bring them down."

Once again, it is Susan's voice, surprising her, this time hard and determined. Hannah listens immediately, aligning herself to be back-to-back with Susan, and the spells she sends at the man opposite her are even louder than before, and in a matter of minutes the two men fall, stunned, to the ground.

Hannah turns. "I'm so sor-"

But she can't finish her sentence; Susan gets there first, wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug.

"No," says Susan, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I thought you were going to die, Hannah, I'm so sorry, Merlin, I'm sorry - "

"It's okay. It's alright."

"You're right. It's okay," Susan repeats, though she continues to sniffle.

"Let's bring Padma to the Great Hall. If we don't she won't be buried properly," Hannah says, making a fruitless effort to stay calm.

"Yes, we should."

week 37.

"I really loved her, Hannah," Susan says, crying quietly as Padma's funeral concludes. Hannah had not felt that she should attend, since Padma didn't know her well, but Susan insisted. "I really, really loved her."

"I'm so sorry," Hannah says sadly. She grieves for the girl, even if she didn't know her.

"We should go," says Susan. Hannah nods, and they leave, walking slowly through the misty graveyard.

Susan begins to cry harder, and Hannah puts an arm around her to let her know she still has Hannah's friendship.

But all she really wants to do is hold her hand.


	7. 06: Jasmine

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition; the Crazy Eights Challenge; the Rubik's Cube Challenge; the Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge. This one's rated T because Sirius Black is an immature person and makes bad innuendos.  
_

* * *

It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At a mere twenty-one years old, Pomona was selected as the new assistant gardener of Hogsmeade Park, a dream she'd had since she was small.

It's her first day, and Pomona, with a light blue sundress blowing around her in the late spring wind and a pink flower crown adorning her blonde hair - she hopes she's not overdoing it - steps cheerfully through the doors of the greenhouse. Nobody is there yet; she pulls her phone out from her pocket and waits for the text from Mr. Mina, her boss. It arrives not thirty seconds later: "Pomona - going to be late. You've done training; you know what to do. Good luck!"

As if on cue, a school group walks in, their uniforms bearing the crest of Hogwarts Academy for the Gifted, a school that sits smack-dab in the middle of Hogsmeade Park. The kids are thirteen, fourteen, perhaps fifteen - harder to handle than five-year-olds. "Welcome, everyone," Pomona says to the class, which, with only ten kids or so, is quite small. "I assume you'd like a tour, yeah?" she asks, directing the question to their professor, a strict-looking young woman with a slimming red jacket.

"Yes, thank you," the woman says, and Pomona begins the tour she's practiced daily for months, showing them all kinds of plants that are housed in the greenhouse, from algae to oregano to roses.

"Over here we have flowers of the species _candidum_. Might anyone be able to tell me the genus of this species and what type of flower it is?" Pomona asks, though she doesn't expect an answer.

A single hand is raised, that of a petite red-headed girl with stunningly green eyes who has stood at the front of the group, alert and attentive, throughout Pomona's tour. "It's the lily," she says. "_Lilium_."

"Oh, very good job! What's your name?"

The girl and her friend giggle. "It's Lily, actually."

"Oh, I see! Now I know how you knew."

"Actually, I just really like plants. Flowers, especially."

Pomona grins. "That's wonderful! You think you might do any work with them?"

"I dunno. I really love plants, but I also rather like, you know, cooking, and… and medicine."

"I'm sure you'll find what you're meant for! Anyway, though, yes, these _are_ lilies, and you've all seen how all of the pots here are decorated with images representing the history of Hogsmeade Park. Well, as you can see, these lilies don't go into pots - "

"Of course not, Potters go into Lilys!" comes a voice from the back. A quiet "Siri - " is heard before -

"Shut the hell up, Black!"

"Let's settle down, please," says the professor just as Pomona is about to step in. She nods in thanks at the woman and continues to discuss the lilies.

By the end of the day, Pomona knows that she's going to remember her first students: a gaggle of immature teenagers and a one-of-a-kind girl with eyes like the plants that she loved.

And when she and her husband are watching the telly eight years later and hear the announcement that a mass murderer was accidentally killed after he himself killed a man and woman, she "hmphs" at the television. "I knew a girl named Lily, she knew a kid named Potter."

She doesn't expect, when she looks up at the television screen, to see auburn hair and bright, bright green eyes.


	8. 07: Lemon 02

_Written for the All You Need Is Love Competition and the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition. In case it looks a bit long, it's 498 words._

* * *

"Bill, I think that I'm going to look for a job in cursebreaking in Egypst," Fleur says, a bit timidly, waiting for his response.

"_Cursebreaking_?!" Bill replies, looking slightly angry.

"Yes. Cursebreaking seems rather interesting."

"I don't want to date you if you're not here!"

"I suppose that we cannot date anymore, then."

"You're breaking _up_ with _me_?"

"Goodbye, Bill."

* * *

Her first day of cursebreaking is one of the most uneventful things she's ever experienced until its last minute.

"There are two Aurors here to oversee your cursebreaking," explains Anise, the leader of their team, as a man and woman step into their tent. "This is Hale Nott and Nymphadora Tonks."

"Tonks, please," says the girl, whose hair is bright blue and falls in a fringe over her eyes.

"Nice to meet you both," choruses the team, which comprises of ten English-speaking wizards and witches from around the world: Australia, Germany, Laos. They're all at least ten years older than her.

"They will be here for another hour to answer any questions you may have," says Anise, and the rest of the group flocks to Hale, likely thinking that he, older and more experienced, would be more interesting to talk to. But Tonks seems to be a lovely person, so Fleur goes and speaks to Tonks.

"Hello, I'm Fleur," she says, walking up to the girl, trying her best not to sound too French for fear of sounding pretentious.

"Tonks," says the girl, grinning. "Are you from France?"

Defeated, Fleur sighs. "I am."

"Why're you sad about it?"

"Eenglish people seem to believe that I cannot speak proper Ee - English."

"I wouldn't be upset. Your accent's pretty."

Fleur blushes a bit. "You think?"

* * *

The others remain engaged in Hale's tales of his past exploits, but Fleur doesn't complain; she loves to merely talk to Tonks. Every day, throughout their work hours, they're always found chatting together while doing their work. It's a week before Fleur realizes that she's completely infatuated with this beautiful blue-haired girl. She's been in relationships before, because she _likes_ relationships; she likes going to beautiful places with people and kissing them and talking to them. But she hasn't felt in love with them. She definitely liked Bill. But in the two months between her explaining her situation and the day she left, she discovered that she no longer really liked him. Now, after meeting Tonks, she's nearly forgotten him: Tonks is perfect.

"Hey, Fleur," says Tonks one day.

"Yeah?"

"D'you want to date?"

Fleur beams broadly and begins to pull Tonks into a hug, but decides against it and aims for a kiss instead. Their lips crash together a little too hard, and they both giggle a little bit, but it is perfect because Tonks is perfect and they are perfect.

"I'm taking that as a yes," murmurs Tonks.

Fleur laughs. "Yes."


	9. 08: Gardenia

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Challenge._

* * *

"Mrs. Figg!" It was the voice of Vernon Dursley, who lived a street or two down - a loud and rather rude man, but his nephew was the famed Harry Potter, so Arabella had moved to her home on Wisteria Walk. She wondered why he would be initiating any sort of conversation with her.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dursley. What can I do for you?"

"Can you watch my nephew tomorrow afternoon? It's our Dudley's birthday; we're going to the children's museum."

"Does Harry want to go to the children's museum?"

"Of course Harry's not going to the children's museum!"

"Well, alright then, Mr. Dursley. I suppose I would be happy to watch him tomorrow. Does he like cats at all? I have some very lovely cats I do believe he would be happy to meet."

"Don't show him the cats, then."

"Why, Mr. Dursley, I almost think you dislike your nephew!" Arabella said, disguising it as a joke but in fact meaning the statement.

"I really do, Mrs. Figg. He's an insolent child. I can't believe we've been stuck with him for so long."

"...Oh." She'd never met a man so horrible.

* * *

"The Maine Coon is the largest domesticated cat - "

"Whaddus duhmestuhc- duhmestuhcayted mean, Mrs. Figg?"

"It means, Harry, that humans keep them as pets. It is native to the state of Maine in the United States of America - "

"Where's that, Mrs. Figg?"

"It is across the ocean, Harry. Please stop interrupting. I thought you would rather enjoy this book."

"I don't enjoy this book, Mrs. Figg!"

"Oh, lovely," she said, continuing to read.

She quite disliked having to make Harry's visit unenjoyable, but she believed that this was the prime opportunity to watch over him, and Dumbledore agreed. Therefore his visits, if they ever happened again, would be dull, she decided.

"Would you like a piece of cake, Harry?"

"I love cake! I would like some cake, please!"

"Very good, Harry. I will get some for you immediately."

"Whaddus immidutly mean?"

"It means right now, Harry. I'll go get you some chocolate cake, and then we can read more about Maine Coons."

* * *

The Dursleys arrived hours later to pick Harry up; Dudley Dursley was not much different than his father. "Harry! Harry, d'you know what we did today? We went to the children's museum! There were fun things we did and I made an art!" He held up his painting, which was the worst thing Arabella had ever seen - worse even than those she had seen from her childhood, in which she'd dropped her cat's paws in different colors of paint and drawn self-portraits.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Figg," Harry said sullenly as the Dursleys walked out of 9 Wisteria Walk. _Wow_, she simply thought. If Harry was upset at leaving her home, at which she had treated him rather badly, his life at the Dursleys' must have been terrible.

(Every time he came over it was always the same. She would treat him badly, though he would be cheerful as ever; he'd do a horrible job of hiding his magic; he'd describe his terrible life at the Dursleys'. He'd leave sadly to return to them, and Arabella Figg would dial the number of the NSPCC, her fingers lingering over the call button for minutes upon minutes until she forced herself to hang up the phone before she actually called them. _Don't call child protection services, Arabella_, Dumbledore had said. _He must live his childhood exactly where he is._)


	10. 09: Neroli

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition; for the Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge._

* * *

Neville thought it would be the most influential day of his life: the day he got a wand.

No, actually, he soon discovered. Sure, it gave him the brilliant power of real magic, not the diminished quality of his father's hand-me-down, and he began to succeed. It can't have been the confidence he gained agter fighting at the Ministry, though that surely helped; it was the wand that allowed him to reach his full potential. And his Gran was proud, and he was proud - more than he could explain.

Nevertheless, that was the limit of the pride that was expressed to him. His dormmates didn't notice his improvements, and nor did his closer friends in other houses. Not even Hermione or Professor McGonagall saw how well he was doing; they pitied him still, thought of of him still as a stupid, clumsy buffoon. It was as if everyone did, and if someone didn't they were in a different universe.

He thought they would love him, but now he knows: he will forever be stuck exactly as everyone always thought of him.

What a waste of life.


	11. 10: Raspberry

_Written for the Fanfiction Perfumers Competition; for the Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge; for the Rubik's Cube Challenge._

* * *

Why was he king of the fairies?

Louis had no talents, could perform no daring feats; he was, in reality, quite like the humans. The only thing that rendered him any different was his great beauty, recognized by all of the fairies: the most useless advantage that anyone was ever given. Perhaps he was beautiful, and perhaps an ardent lover, too, though that was of course not known to the fairies, only to a few rather fortunate humans, but not counting those assets - if you could call them assets - Louis, King of the Fairies, was nothing.

It was one early morning in late spring when he decided if he could not himself have romance, what better to do than to grant it others? So his summer was spent repairing the romances, turning tragedies to comedies, granting new love to young men whose desires were to wed others and perhaps slipping up a few times.

But he did nothing else.

What a useless king the fairies had.


End file.
